


Night Shining

by KSLoops



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gay, Gritty, LGBT, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Science Fiction, queer, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 13:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15462126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KSLoops/pseuds/KSLoops
Summary: Euclid Station is not for the faint of heart. There are no laws, only rules enforced by violence or bribery. Noc is a badly scarred smuggler who moves caffeine, one of the most potent stimulants ever made. He may be the ugliest man onboard, but he’s paid well and often.Everything is going well until a stranger shows up at the bar who reeks of law enforcement. That’s a death sentence. Noc knows something isn’t right and has less than 24 hours to figure it out. Because no one’s life starts out on Euclid Station, but it often ends there.





	Night Shining

The third shot of caffeine really does me in. It zings through me, brains to balls, until my nerves hum on the brink of overload. The pleasant sting arcs through my jaw like a current. I open my eyes and grit my teeth together like that will keep the feeling from fading. It doesn't of course, but a man's got to try. The music pounds my back like a hand.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Impossible not to." I wipe sweat off my face.

Angie's pink mouth hooks up at the corners. Her dark skin reflects all her fluorescing hair and makeup. She shimmers like a mirage. A mirage with exquisite taste in contraband.

"That's the business.

"And I'm glad."

Her gaze suddenly shifts. "Look at this fuck."

I follow the direction of her stare. The bar has an arched ceiling that fits snugly into the station's bulkhead. Long neon tubes crisscross overhead and cast thick indigo shadows. Small tables shaped like flower stems become progressively thinner the higher they go. The ceiling itself isn't very decorative, but it still has little alcoves for customers to lean into or leave their drinks inside when in nil-grav.

In half-grav, the crowd undulates like a wave. People aren't weightless, but they glide like they're underwater and feel no drag. Lawbreakers of all kinds hang near the walls, sit by the bar, or indulge in slow acrobatics needed to cross the room. It's something that takes practice. New arrivals always look like they're about to fall over. The aforementioned fuck cleaves through couples with a rigidness that betrays unsteady feet. A badge. I can spot one just about anywhere. Light spears across his face and all the hairs on my neck stand on end.

Angie leans on the bar top. "I haven't seen an alleler in 80 years."

"People aren't supposed to look like that."

"Like what?"

"Like a mannequin that knows it's a mannequin."

She glances at my cup. Some of her braids are drawn up into two buns. Gold spreads through them like a double sunrise.

"No uniform," she says. "Must be covert."

"Shame. I've always liked the uniforms."

Angie gives me a look. If I didn't move her product so well, she would vent me into space.

The badge sits one pod down. He's all Earth proportions so striding around in station gravity doesn't look too comfortable. He's blond and pink-skinned, of course. Not very imaginative, but still one of the classics. His eyes are something else, though. Not 'I can trace my ancestors back to Earth' blue. Ion blue. Star blue. 'The last hours of your life are going to be spent throwing up your innards' blue.

Someone ordered him to spec. You'd think he was an android or tactile sim until you looked him in the eye. Then you'd know. Something's really alive in there.

He taps his wrist. "Kepler Reg."

His voice has just the right among of depth and roughness to tick my skin. I bet he looks perfect while taking a shit, too.

He suddenly faces me. "You?"

"What?"

"You want something or are you going to keep on glaring at me?"

Angie smirks. Her braids shift between shades of purple. I stare back at him for a lot longer than is considered healthy, but he doesn't flinch. He's got something to prove. My skin is a quilt of scars that come in different shades of whites, reds, and purples. My left eye oozes tears all the time and irritates the lid. Half my nose is gone. Without a prosthetic, I wouldn't even taste Angie's glow.

He creeps me out so I stare at him a little longer because I can.

"Fine. Gimme an alc-90. Something stern."

He nods at Angie like he's ordered people around his whole life. I half expect her to lift one of her rifles above deck, but she only sets two glasses on the bar top and fills them up. My drink is the distinct white and blue of a Sunrise while his is gold brown. The badge slides mine over and raises his Kepler Reg at me. I return the gesture and knock it back so I don't have look at him. The Sunrise goes down like a mouthful of rivets. I slap my chest and burp loud enough to make other patrons glance over. If anyone had an open light, my breath would've turned into a fireball.

"Sall," he says and moves right on over to sit beside me.

"Hey Sall." I set my glass down and glance at Angie. She's not smirking anymore. "You're new to half-grav."

"Just getting reacquainted."

Angie moves to the other side of the bar. Two shapes emerge from the far corner. They order a few drinks and slink off again. That's how things are organized on Euclid Station. You can order a kill and an appetizer in the same breath from the same person and it'll be done in the same 24 hour slot.

"Nobody agrees on a standard g out here." I flick a tear off my cheek. "If you can't escape the misery, make it worth your while."

Sall eyeballs me over the rim of his glass. As he drinks, his mouth opens and closes like a valve.

"Half the misery in this life comes from trying to change things nobody can change."

He sets the Kep down. "Only half?"

I smile and it hurts.

We finish our round and wait for Angie to come back. She takes her time chatting with people to see who is doing what with who. When she strides back to us, she glimmers as green as an aurora.

Sall suddenly looks at me. "What were you drinking before?"

"Espresso."

He tenses. " _Glow_."

"Same thing."

For the first time since he entered the bar, Sall hesitates. Then he juts his chin out and nods. "We'll have some glow."

I raise what's left of my eyebrows. Angie examines him like she's deciding whether or not to buy a new gun. Euclid Station is the most well-armed hub outside SolFed jurisdiction. If Sall's looking to take us out over possession and sales, he'll need the whole fleet to do it.

"Drink up." Angie pours two glasses of rich brown espresso. "And don't expect help if your heart gives out."

There's a half-second where it seems like he's going to stand up and declare that we're all under arrest. But he shakes off whatever moral dilemma is going on in his mind and knocks the caffeine back. His face immediately turns red and sweaty. I can almost hear the machinery in his body speeding up. He blinks rapidly and looks up at the ceiling like he's having a revelation.

"Ride it out." I swirl my glow before drinking. Hot or cold, doesn't matter. It's bitter and earthy like someone bottled up a piece of the homeworld. "Couple hundred years ago, this stuff was legal. Anyone could drink it. Must've been paradise."

"Paradise." Sall clenches his teeth. "Yeah."

"You been there? Earth?"

"Once."

"Is it as good as everybody says it is?"

He shuts his eyes. "Better."

"Most of the holofeeds I see are counterfeit."

"They might be real. Fakes are easier to believe."

Angie lays her hand over mine. Every colour in the room glints off her irises, bent by some unseen weight inside of her. She taps my wrist and I don't need to look down to see my funds are considerably diminished.

Another tear rolls down my face. In half-grav, it balls up and sticks into any crevice it can find. If enough moisture collects in one place, it'll just sit there. I flick it off, but my skin still feels raw.

Sall leans in when Angie steps back. "You should fix that."

"I've been this way for too long." I make a circle in the air in front of me. "It's my face now."

"Suppose SolFed's vetting network has nothing to do with it."

"Suppose not. What's your excuse?"

He hunches his shoulders. "There's a patent."

"Of course there is." I spin my empty glass around the bar top. The scant remnants of glow swirl at the bottom in bands of browns, tans, and whites. "No wonder you left."

"Not many people own their shit, even out here." Sall rests his hand on top of my glass. "It's rare."

His fingertips graze my knuckles. He bears distinct triple crescent scars. The infamous Ark bite. Most of Euclid Station's old-timers carry similar marks. Back then, if you fired too many plasma rounds, the pistol deformed. Overheated slides routinely popped the guard to deliver third degree burns. One of many reasons why it hasn't seen use in a century.

"The Ark A1." I trace the longest scar with my thumbnail. "First gun of its kind."

"Hard to imagine firing one now without an ICIMOD."

Sall says it like it's nothing. Maybe it is. The Internal Cooling Injectant Modification revolutionized plasma weapons, but that could've been just another day for him. Allelers don't age like the rest of us. They're picture perfect until their telomeres are nubs. Then they die all at once. Every twist of DNA frays like old rope. Cells can't divide. Damage accumulates. It's like eating a gamma ray with no shielding. Everything just devolves into unreplicable snot, blood, and jelly. Not a nice way to go. It's about as far away from 'nice' as you can get.

I've only seen it once, but I didn't know it at the time. My old captain planned to ransom some rich inner sol brat on our detail. The kid started rotting while he was still alive. His organs dissolved like food cubes in water. I know because I could see through his skin. Bled every fluid out of every hole. We thought it was some new disease. Scared us so bad we jumped ship in nothing but our short-range emergency suits. Never heard from the kid or my captain again.

Sall's knee brushes mine. I startle, look down, then up at him. His eyes shine like the heart of a reactor. He's so solid, he could be inert. Where did SolFed find this freaksh—

_Oh._

It takes a second to register what's going on. Sall kissing me. Not just 'I want to sample the ugly one' kiss or 'I can con this mess' kiss. A kiss kiss. The kind everybody takes for granted. He wraps his arms around my skull and presses up against me. We're snugly locked together at the bar for anyone to see. The last zings of glow hop between our tongues. It's like sharing a fifth shot. Except all the tingly good-feelings flow south and stay there.

I shove Sall off, but he only gives a few inches. "Figures an alleler would zero in the ugliest guy in the room."

He smiles tightly. "I didn't peg you as the insecure type."

"Don't like being singled out."

"Then you're in the wrong skin."

"So are you."

"We've all got to stand out if we want to blend in around here." Moisture trickles down the ruts around my nose and Sall catches it with one finger. "Even a wash out like me."

The guts in this guy. He doesn't say 'badge', but that's as good as announcing it to the whole damn bar. I can't help but look at Angie. She just looks back at me, arms crossed, pure violet. Something in her eyes quickens, but she doesn't move. All she does is incline her chin slightly. There isn't going to be a lot of time for fun now. The last time I saw Angie look like that, one of her pilots refused to dock without a little extra incentive. She jacked the ship AI, vented the atmosphere, and took all her profits and then some. Somewhere out there, the pilot's corpse is getting pecked apart by dust and starlight.

Between that, the drowning kid's face, and Sall's kiss, I don't know where I'm at. But I know which way I want to go. So I take a deep breath and push all that hideous shit back into the dark corners of my brain.

"My name's Noc. But I'm only telling you because this is probably your last orbit alive."

He relaxes like that's the answer he's been waiting for. "So let's ride it out."

Something in him is blazing. I guess proximity to death does that to people, even ones made in a lab. Like stars that go supernova. They burst from the inside and for a little while they can outshine a galaxy.

I stand up. He stands up. We walk side by side out of the bar. If Angie says something, I can't hear it. The station's atmosphere could blow out and I still wouldn't notice. A honeytrap would be easier to accept. Honeytraps make sense. I can wiggle out of those. Sall glances at me, expression tight. His shoulders are nearly up to his ears. I could probably use them as a leveller.

"Here." I wave my wrist near the lock and the door opens with a quiet chirp. "It's not fancy, but it's not the barracks. Take what you can get."

Everything's just as I left it. Unmade bed cubby, blankets, EVA kit, and clothes strewn on the floor. The shelves are lined with bullets in various stages of completion. Most are plasma clips, a few magazines, and at least seven Ark variants carefully arranged to avoid dust. More guns tucked into the small closet carved sideways out of my cubby. That's where all the long barrels are. My place smells of sweat, metal, and Heliogrease: the only oil that can take what the modern Arks put out. Costs me a fortune, too.

The door slides shut once we're clear. I catch sight of the carpet; all the suspicious dark stains put on for our viewing pleasure. "Just so you know, those are from oil."

Sall doesn't speak.

He's watching me like something inside of him is about to break containment. The second we make eye contact, he moves. I reach for my knife instinctively just as he shoves me back against the wall. Maybe it's the glow. Maybe it's just us. But I swear I can feel the station spinning under my feet. The kiss that follows is deep. So is the next one and the one after that.

It takes a few tries to pry myself off him. His breath huffs over my face and smells distinctly bitter. Another tear escapes past my eyelid and he wipes it away.

"What?" He finally grates.

"I thought I was supposed to be the desperate one."

He trails his fingers over my jugulars. "I'm not desperate."

"Okay."

"I'm not."

"Alright."

"Nobody has your face. It's impossible to copy."

"Who would want to?"

Sall grabs the collar of my suit and drags me back in.

And, well.... We ride it out.

 

* * *

 

The sex is good. Pretty good. Okay, it's the perfect intersection of easing off glow and onto someone's skin. Because everything else about Sall is perfect, why not add this to the list? What a fucking asshole. I haven't had such a leg-shaker since my trainee days. All the aches and pains in my body remind me how long ago that is.

We catch our breath on the floor facing the floor to ceiling windows. My quarters have a great view. The walls are dark with metal ribs descending from the hull. When I first came in here, the temperature swung from scalding to sub-zero. Now translucent blue sheets of aerogel span across each rib to help regulate heat. Sure, if anywhere on the station is going to fail first, it's going to be here, but it's a great view.

Breath puffs across my ear. "Are you dead?"

"Yes," I groan into the carpet. "Too old and out of shape for this shit."

"You need to train in some real g's."

"Ugh."

Sall huffs out a laugh and cuddles right up to me. He doesn't seem the type, but he drapes his arm over my ribs and tucks his knees behind mine. The floor is damn cold so the warmth he gives off is—nice. A little clingy, but the man's about to die. Maybe, deep down, a part of him accepts it. Or maybe I'm just getting soft and the guilt's getting to me. It doesn't matter. It's not like he'll tell anyone anyway.

"You ever want to just get out of here?" He asks suddenly. "Just pack your shit and leave?"

"That's how I got here." I look at him over my shoulder, but he stares off into space like he's not really here. "It's not so bad on Euclid. Steady work, stable boss, lots and lots of glow. There's a silver-lining to every shitshow."

"Make it worthwhile."

"Exactly."

He sighs and pulls us closer together. Plenty of good, law-abiding people have begged me for their lives and wound up dead and disappointed. That's the job. But something about the way Sall's face contorts makes it look like it's fighting to look attractive and happy. Maybe it is. Those alleler labs are big on advertising and nobody wants the face of a sad man.

"You should see Earth, Noc. No suits, no radiation, perfect atmosphere. Water just sitting in liquid form. You could scoop it up with your hand and drink it if you wanted."

What a romantic piece of shit. I smile against my will and finally admit, "I've been there."

Sall looks down at me.

"Another life, you understand? A good one, but I fucked it all up."

"Smuggling?"

The kid's face flashes before my eyes. I swallow even though my mouth's gone dry. "Got greedy. Didn't appreciate the set-up I had. How good it was. All the usual clichés of wasted youth."

He hums a note of agreement. "Makes sense now. You were the saddest looking guy at the bar."

"Funny, I thought the same about you."

"Funny," he agrees.

A distinctive thunk and whir rumbles through the floor.

"Ready for some sightseeing?" I point at the waste disposal dock without lifting my arm. "Look over there."

A rainbow of frozen piss and shit tumbles out into vacuum. YS-4's glowing amber limb makes for the perfect backdrop. Glitter and gold. All our waste is destined to incinerate in its atmosphere. The debris spin into the distance, tiny glints in the darkness, until they're too faint to see.

Sall's stubble rasps against my neck. I hear it more than I feel it. "You think I can get hired around here?"

"Angie doesn't like badges."

"You're a badge."

I grab the cubby handle, but he neatly locks my elbow.

"Easy, easy. I didn't mean it like that."

"Then how'd you mean it?"

"It's the way you sit. You lean right like you still have a rifle compact jabbing you in the armpit."

"Well, I'm not. Now get the fuck off me."

"Sorry."

He lets go and I settle back on my side—for now. "Do that again and I'll shoot you."

"Fair enough."

Sall manages to keep his hands to himself for about five seconds. Then ghosts of pressure continue near my spine. It's hard not to flinch.

He pauses. "Does it hurt?"

"Nah."

"These starburns look deep. I'm surprised they didn't hit bone."

I screw my eyes shut as if that will stop memories from replaying in my head. "They did," I admit after a while. "Angie scraped me off the hull of some derelict astroharvester. I'm not pretty, but I'm not dead."

"That was nice of her."

"She's as fair as she can afford to be out here."

"So there's hope for me?"

"There's hope for hope." I roll onto my back and Sall props his head on one hand to make room. "She hasn't thrown you out an airlock yet. That's something."

He smiles wanly and it makes his face look more like a face. There's a story behind that, I'm sure of it. A shame we don't have more time to figure it out.

Sall gazes out the window. "I've heard a ring of dead badges surrounds this place."

"Who would dock inside a debris chain? We'd be out of business in a week."

"Spoken like a true smuggler."

"Never build a good story on bad orbital mechanics."

He laughs and it resonates through my chest. I pull him down for another kiss. This time, I can feel his stubble just fine.

 

* * *

 

The next morning arrives too soon. I wake up aching all over, naked and cold. Damn cold. Everything tingles on the brink of numbness. I shiver and once I start, I can't stop. Feels like lumps of blood are moving under my skin. The heating should've kicked in by now. It takes a few seconds before I can pry my eyes open. The little I can make out veers and spins. My mouth isn't just dry, it's desiccated. Last night is a long pleasant blur. Sleeping with Sall was good, but not this good. Neither was Angie's glow.

Things slowly come back into focus. Rows of rivets. Traces of dust. There's a faint smell of ammonia. I crane my head up and finally recognize where I am: an airlock. Something hard and icy slides across me and hits the floor with a loud thunk. It's a wall panel bent right around my ribs so its edges dig into my back. 'BADGE' is engraved on it in big fluorescing letters.

I look at the outer door, but I already know what I'll see. The door itself is open. A big red disk is secured against the bulkhead, but filled with a fraction of the resin it needs to maintain current pressure. That's it. That's what stands between me and the vacuum of space. A weak crack cap. Less than a centimetre of plastic and goo.

Every badge who steps foot on Euclid Station is trussed up in the airlocks just like this. We take bets on how long the seal will last. I bet every soul onboard is watching me now.

"You should've stayed asleep," Angie says over com.

She stands directly behind the thick circular window. Her hair and make-up are as grey as rainclouds. It's hard to stand up even in half-grav. The panel makes it impossible to bend my waist. After a few tries, I manage to push myself off the floor and land on my feet. I shove my hands underneath my arms and study the keypad. It's dark. No power. No way to open this thing from the inside.

"What the hell is this?"

"You know the rules, Noc. Badges get the pop."

"Says who? Sall? He's so full of sh—"

"It's too late for that."

"I've moved your grind for seventeen years." I slam my open palm against the window. "Seventeen fucking years, Angie."

Her eyes quicken. "You lied to me. I understand why, but I will not tolerate it."

"Tell me who you found broiling on that wreck. Because all I remember is screaming like an animal while your crew cut me out of my suit."

She nods ever so slightly. "Things might be different if you'd told me."

"We both know what you would've done." I press my forehead against the door and it burns cold. "It wouldn't have been a quick bullet to the head."

"No," she admits. "Probably not."

It's so quiet, I can hear the airlock camera adjusting its lens. I look up at it and raise my arms. "Take a good look. This is what your loyalty buys these days."

"They can't hear you."

"No sound?" My teeth start to chatter. "There'll be talk."

"New friendships can be rocky."

"New friends...?"

Sall steps into view behind her. The way he moves is completely different; like he's lived in half-grav his entire life. The guy from last night is gone. Whatever he is, he's not a badge. I just stare at him. I can't even hide it. He played me the whole time. Even when we were skin to skin. A honeytrap after all.

He stares at me like we've never met before. Polite, impartial pity on my behalf. I spit on the door and prowl around the airlock. Fractals of ice are forming on the disk. There's no sensation left in my feet. If the floor is getting colder, I can't feel it. I breathe on my fingers to get some feeling back, but it's useless.

"It's confirmed and signed for," Sall says in his perfect voice. "An astroharvester was tracked very close to where my clients' son was found. Trace nucleotides match a Specialist Sergeant Gilede Kies."

The weight of that name is enough to stop me. It's a grenade I've kept hidden for a long time. Now the pin's pulled. This is real. It's happening. He must have so much more than my name to get here. Angie wouldn't act on anything less than a dead hit.

Something moves near the edge of my vision. Sall holds a bright square against the inner door. A screen of some sort. He wants to make a point, does he? I walk right up to it so he can see every atom of my ugly face. It's a picture of the young alleler. Except here he's smiling in the formal dress of an AI technician. A perfectly crafted person for a perfectly crafted life.

Sall peers at me through glass and spit. "I haven't been able to close this file for years because of you. You're my last name."

"Tell your clients that their son died alone. He sat in a chair and drowned."

Angie tucks a few white-grey braids behind her ear and looks over my shoulder. A distinct snap echoes behind me.

"That's your future, Sall." I walk backwards as the snap is followed by crackling. "Think about that while you count their money."

Angie smiles.

Sall lowers the screen. "His name was Altostratus Beqiri."

There's a soft hissing near my neck. It's hard to hear over my own heartbeat. My back muscles tense in anticipation. The weight of vacuum crowds in behind me.

"He's dead. Doesn't matter."

"It matters," he says harshly. "It always matters."

Angie glances at him.

I laugh and it sounds shaky even to me. "Sounds kinda desperate."

He opens his mouth, then closes it again. That well-groomed pity is gone.

The room explodes. I barely scream before I'm sucked out of the airlock. Sudden silence. Pain lances through my skull. My ears pop. Air bursts out of me from both ends. Spit boils inside my mouth. My tears turn to steam.

Euclide Station and YS-4 roll past me over and over again. The need for air pounds inside my chest. I strain to breathe. Can't. The pressure builds. Lungs straining. Heart beating. My pulse bangs against my ears like a drum. Intensifying pain spreads through my body. My hands look like gloves. All the gasses in my blood are bubbling out of solution.

A thin strip of light blurs over my head. Rays of starlight spear over the horizon of Euclid's hull. The wall panel is instantly seared to my belly. Agony, then a nauseating chill. My skin heats up. And up. I'm being cooked alive by a blue giant.

Knowing it is worse than feeling it. I shut my eyes. Every blood vessel sits in perfect silhouette like tributaries in a river or the branches of a tree. Dark blots appear and multiply. They overlap until all I see is a deep black bowl with a corona of purest cell-shredding blue.

 


End file.
